


Let Me Take a Bite Out of You

by carpemermaid



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Flora & Fauna, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Conspiracy Theories, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Feels, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Galaxy Garrison, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kerberos Mission, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Keith (Voltron), POV Lance (Voltron), Pre-Canon, Pre-Voltron: Legendary Defender, Rating May Change, Rivalry, Romance, Sexual Content, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Soulmates, Touch-Starved Keith, Unresolved Sexual Tension, love bug au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 02:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12644391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpemermaid/pseuds/carpemermaid
Summary: Lance and Hunk are just looking for a night out to celebrate his promotion, Keith and Pidge are searching for answers, and the Galaxy Garrison has unrevealed secrets that will change everything as they know it.When Keith and Pidge’s latest snooping into the Garrison results in a live specimen taking a shine to Keith and biting him, his whole world turns upside down. Again. He feels fine, hedoes—that is, until he runs smack into Lance and Hunk while they are sneaking out—and then it hits him all at once. Before any of them are able to make a move, Keith is launching himself at Lance and hugging him like his life depends on it, and Lance, Hunk, and Pidge have to deal with the fallout.Together, they learn how to become a real team on their own terms while the four of them fall deeper and deeper into the truth the Galaxy Garrison is hiding.[ A mishmashLove Bug/Soulmates/Fake Dating Garrison AUthat kicked down my door and took over my life. The Love Bug AU is based on@eyugho’sbrilliantLoveBug Fanart! ]





	Let Me Take a Bite Out of You

**Author's Note:**

> **Note (9/29/18):** To anyone stumbling on this fic and being put off by the WIP status + the time it's been since the first chapter was posted, I just wanted to put it out there that this story is not abandoned, I just can't promise any kind of regular update schedule for it. Consider it a fic on hiatus! :')

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual: Lance, Keith, and Hunk are 18, Pidge is 17. Super big thanks, as always, to [**varevare**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/varebanos/pseuds/varevare) for helping me out with the Spanish! Translations are always at the end of the chapter! Thanks for coming along on this wild ride with me! I subsist entirely on comments, kudos, and my heart bursts like sunflowers for recs, so if you enjoy the story please please please let me know! :)
> 
>  **Trigger Warning** for a minor injury dealing with blood in this first chapter, if you want to skip it read to the part **“He fumbles to catch it in time…”** and pick up again at the part **“What is it?” Keith asks quietly.** Don’t worry, you won’t miss anything! There is also a super brief second mention of this injury towards the end of the chapter that can be skipped if you read to part **"Lance slides his eyes to Keith, who is nestled..."** and pick up once more at **"Okay, I'd better get back to my dorm," Pidge announces...** , all you'll be missing out on from that second part is Lance taking care of the injury for Keith and putting a band-aid on it, the injury is not described in explicit detail in the second instance.

Keith adjusts his cadet uniform for the third time as he waits along with Katie, Mrs Holt, and the other Garrison personnel waiting to greet the return shuttle for the Kerberos crew. He wants to make sure he looks his best; it’s an important moment that he’s been eagerly counting down the days to. He can hardly stand the wait, feeling jittery with nerves and unbridled excitement.

Shiro is finally coming home to Earth.

Keith can’t decide what to tell Shiro first: that he’s top of his flight course, that he finally made another friend, or that he beat Shiro’s record on the flight simulator.

The order doesn’t really matter; he’s going to tell Shiro all of those things and more about what he’s missed while he’s been in deep space.

Keith scans the sky again and nearly lets out an unrestrained whoop when he spots a spec in the sky that’s growing minute by minute, the bright desert sunshine glinting off its metallic hull. Katie shoots him a grin that Keith returns easily.

“ _Kerberos Mission Shuttle GG-429, atmosphere breach successful. Clear for landing_.” The announcement from the compound’s Air Traffic Control crackles over the radio on Commander Iverson’s hip.

Keith and Katie both turn their attention back to the shuttle, watching intently as it gets closer to the landing pad they’re all waiting on. It feels like it takes forever, but Keith chalks that up to how excited he is to finally see Shiro again. Two years has felt like an endless eternity, and Keith is ready to have his best friend back.

The landing seems to drag on and on and _on_ , and Keith fidgets in place, casting a sidelong glance at his superior officer to check if he saw.

“Why is it taking so long?” Katie asks her mom. Mrs Holt shrugs and wraps an arm around Katie’s shoulders to hug her close.

Keith silently agrees with her, his eyes glued to the shuttle in the sky. _Hurry up, Shiro_ , he thinks.

Something in the air shifts, and all the sudden Keith can feel that something’s wrong. His superiors receive a radio message from a private line, speaking in a code that Keith doesn’t understand—it’s above his rank to know and he’s left in the dark. He chews on his lip and feels a spike of anxiety when Iverson turns to two of the senior officers and gruffly orders them to prepare a first responder team.

Everything after that happens in a flurry that Keith can’t quite comprehend from how quickly it all blurs together.

The shuttle begins to plummet, much faster than the ship’s gradual descent thus far. A steady stream of black smoke starts to trail from the back and the officers beside Keith are shouting orders and running toward the emergency call box at the end of the landing pad.

Katie is crying and clutching her mother, and Keith stands stock still in the middle of it all, feeling like cement traps every one of his limbs in place from doing anything to react to the awful sight of Shiro’s shuttle crashing back to Earth.

“Pilot error! There’s been a pilot error! _Pilot err_ —”

Keith’s eyes snap open when he jerks into consciousness, already partially out of bed before he’s even completely awake. His skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his fringe clinging to his face in messy clumps. He automatically clutches a hand over his chest, trying to take deep breaths to calm his racing heart.

He’s not a stranger to the awful dreams about Shiro’s mission, but they wreak havoc on him every time he wakes up from one.

As he tries to gradually bring himself back to reality, Keith’s eyes drift over to the bulletin board hanging above his desk. There’s a Polaroid of Keith and Shiro pinned to the middle next to a note in Shiro’s handwriting. He’d gotten both the day the Kerberos mission launched.

Keith sits on the edge of his bed and runs his hand over his face, scrubbing the sleep—and the nightmare—from his eyes. He pushes his bangs back and glances over to his roommate’s side of the room. He’s already gone for the day; the guy is an early riser who is always up before Keith.

He sighs and presses his fingertips into his closed eyelids briefly before getting up, blinking the spots from his vision, and gathering his things for a shower before breakfast. A quick glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells Keith he has another forty minutes before breakfast ends.

It’s been five months since something went wrong with the Kerberos mission; five long months since Iverson stood before the Garrison and announced that the mission was deemed a failure due to pilot error—despite there not being any trace of the Kerberos crew after disappearing and no evidence of a crash. All Keith wants to do day in and day out is find out what really happened to Shiro. He is certain that the Galaxy Garrison is hiding something. People don’t just _vanish_ , even in space.

Keith struggled with his temper in the first few weeks between his grief and refusal to believe the report about Shiro’s mission.

The Garrison has still been sending shuttles into space and bringing back samples from the far reaches of the solar systems to analyze, but claim that Kerberos was a failure with minimal investigation.

Keith doesn’t believe it for a second; he knows what a great pilot Shiro is.

If it weren’t for Pidge, he would have already gone off the rails trying to find the answers he’s looking for, but she convinced him that a more subtle approach was the better way to get what they needed.

He first met her as Katie on Launch Day for Kerberos. She was there with her dad and brother to see them off. After that, he saw her often enough to consider her more than a stranger. The Garrison allowed mission teams to receive video calls twice a month on their journey to Kerberos until the satellites were no longer in transmission range, and over the course of the first nine months Katie and Keith got to know each other while in the waiting room to the video conference center.

A few short months after news of Kerberos broke, Pidge Gunderson had showed up and joined the cadet ranks.

Keith recognized her immediately, even though she cut her long hair and wore baggier clothes to disguise herself. He didn’t say anything at first, only noticing how much she reacted whenever Kerberos was brought up as an example. She’d taken it pretty hard when the shuttle simulator they used in training began to use a simulation eerily similar to Kerberos’ flight plan.

Pidge could do whatever she wanted for all Keith cared—he was focused on his own problems. His issues with authority figures flared without Shiro to temper his attitude problem, and despite Keith’s talent for flying, his instructors began to look poorly on his behavior.

Keith mouthed off to his flight instructor and Iverson with increasing frequency, edging closer and closer to getting himself booted from the training program.

Pidge happened to be walking by once, when Keith was getting in Iverson’s face and refusing to fall in line. After Iverson dismissed him with thinning patience, Keith spotted Pidge and cornered her, needing another outlet for his bubbling emotions.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” Keith asked, finally, after a month of ignoring his friend’s presence at the Garrison.

Pidge looked up and down the empty hall before answering. “Is it that hard to guess? You already know I got banned from the premises.”

“How did you even manage to get in? You’re not old enough to enlist yet,” Keith pointed out.

Pidge smirked and adjusted her large round frames. “Please, don’t insult me. I’m way smarter than your average Garrison computer. Anyway, look,” Pidge said, giving Keith an unimpressed once over. “You’re going about this all wrong with this overemotional approach.”

Keith crossed his arms and scowled. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Okay, sure,” Pidge said doubtfully. “But listen, if you want to help me find out what really happened to my dad, Matt, and your friend, Shiro, then you’re going to have to do things my way.”

“And what makes you think you’re going to have better results than I am?” Keith asked.

“Keith, do you even have a plan?” Pidge countered.

Keith opened his mouth to insist that he had one—of course he had one—only, he didn’t actually have a plan. He closed his mouth and fidgeted with the snap buckle on his fingerless gloves.

“That’s what I thought,” Pidge said. She held out her hand for Keith to shake, and he took it tentatively. “We’re going to find out what happened to our people. And when we do, we’re going to figure out a way to bring them home.”

Keith hadn’t looked back after that. Since then, they’ve been working together.

They sneak around and snoop into everything the Garrison is keeping on the other side of the military compound, where trainees aren’t allowed. It’s not easy to slip by the cameras and security, but Keith’s always been good at moving around undetected.

He goes over the plan for that night while he showers, giving his hair a perfunctory scrub. A new sample set has been taken into the lab for analysis, and Keith and Pidge plan to catalogue it for themselves. According to Pidge’s intel she gained from hacking the flight log, the planet samples are from a neighboring star system.

The Galaxy Garrison hasn’t come out with a public announcement that they’re even capable of sending their exploration shuttles into other systems outside of the one Earth was in, let alone that they’ve been bringing back numerous samples for their analysts to examine.

Keith returns from his shower and stares at his reflection in the mirror as he does up the fastenings on his orange and white cadet uniform. He isn’t sure if it’s just the absence of Shiro, or the grief he’s been trying to work out of his system in the last several months, but putting the uniform on doesn’t feel the same—hasn’t since the Garrison told him Shiro was dead. He doesn’t know if the Garrison is a place where he fits in anymore, not in the way he seemed to when Shiro was there with him, and Keith isn’t sure how to change that feeling.

He turns to his bulletin board before he leaves for breakfast, and then classes, to touch the Polaroid photo of himself and Shiro, a habit he’s developed over the last year.

“We haven’t given up on you, Shiro,” Keith says softly, smiling at the photo of his best friend before he leaves his dorm. “Hang in there.”

*******

Lance stands on his dorm bed with his hairbrush clutched in one hand as he belts out the lyrics to the song he and Hunk are blasting while they get ready for their night.

“Go go,” Lance sings enthusiastically, “Go big or go—”

“Ugh, no,” Hunk groans, swatting at him and missing. “We agreed that you could only sing along when I wasn’t here to suffer through it. Remember the pact, man; honor the pact.”

Lance laughs and leaps off the bed, landing next to Hunk in a dramatic pose with one arm flexing and the other pointing up at an angle. “Don’t be like that, bro. I’m too amped up tonight for you to bring down my mood. Besides, I thought you loved my singing voice? _Lo cantaré en español._ ”

Lance winks at him and blows him a kiss. Hunk shoots him an affectionate look and ruffles his hair, making Lance squawk.

“Aw, dude, come on! Now I have to do it all over again,” Lance complains.

Lance opens his closet and sets to work fixing his hair. He’s thrumming with energy and he can’t keep a grin off his face. They’re going out to celebrate tonight; Lance _finally_ got promoted from Cargo to Fighter Pilot class recently and he just received his team assignment that morning. He whooped and punched a fist into the air when he saw Hunk was partnered with him as his engineer, and the new guy was listed as his communications tech.

He’s been busting his ass, working to catch himself up with the work the rest of the Fighter Pilot class has already completed so far.

The song changes and it’s one of Hunk and Lance’s jams. They look at each other and smirk. Lance shoots off a finger gun gesture to Hunk and he spins in place, striking a pose that would make anyone envious of his level of cool. Lance laughs, happy and bright, and puts the finishing touches on his hair.

Hunk was reluctant to go out at first—claiming he had an engineering exam to study for—but after some gentle prodding (see: strategic pouting) from Lance, he agreed to join him as long as they went for a bite to eat at his favorite diner in town. Lance had conceded, glad to have the chance, at last, to celebrate his personal win with his best friend.

Lance looks back at his reflection in the mirror and winks at himself, liking what he sees. His confidence feels like it’s turned up to eleven and nothing is going to sour Lance’s night—not even if he comes across Keith.

Lance and Keith were in the same group of recruits enlisting at the same time. Lance was eager to join the world-renowned Galaxy Garrison, traveling far from where his family lived to attend the prestigious military college. They’d crossed paths once or twice on the first day, and Lance had politely nodded to him when they were standing in the group of pilot hopefuls. Keith quickly proved himself to be a talented pilot to the higher-ranking officers and moved up the ranks, while Lance had to claw his way there. He took the qualification exam three times before he was finally promoted—and only because someone else in the program burned out and left an open slot for Lance to move up into. What really irked Lance about Keith wasn’t even the competition between them to be the best pilot at the Garrison—it was that Keith was a loner type who acted too good to interact with the rest of them. Lance only ever saw Keith talk to Shiro and the new cadet, Pidge. Lance tried to talk to Keith once, in the mess hall at lunch, and Keith had just stared at him blankly, asking who he was. Lance left fuming.

Since then, Lance compares all of his own achievements and promotions to Keith’s; it’s his personal vendetta to try to fight Keith for top of their cadet class now that he’s moved up from Cargo to Fighter Pilot in rank.

“You ready for a magical night, dude?” Lance asks Hunk, slinging an arm over his shoulders.

Hunk pretends to think it over before he loses it, snickering, when Lance whines pitifully.

“Let’s go. Although, I do want to make it clear one more time: I do not want to get caught and I think it’s a really bad idea to sneak out,” Hunk says seriously, his eyes going wide.

“Relax, buddy, I would never lead you astray,” Lance says, making a miming gesture like he’s smoothing his hand across a flat surface. “Besides, I’ve totally got a strategy for getting us out.”

Hunk continues to be a worrywart, murmuring to himself as they sneak through the halls.

“Cool it, Hunk. You’re going to give yourself an ulcer or something,” Lance says with amusement in his voice.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about how every time I listen to your ideas, I end up in Iverson’s office,” Hunk says absently.

Lance clucks at him and slips around a corner. He hums a popular spy theme song under his breath and ignores the wounded sound Hunk makes when he hears what Lance is doing.

Whenever a patrol guard or one of the instructors walk by, Lance grabs Hunk and they hide. They don’t get caught on their journey.

*******

“Coast is clear, go,” Keith murmurs. Pidge is already moving into a crouch in front of the keypad lock on the door to Lab 4.

She plugs a cable from her handheld tablet into a port on the side of the keypad Pidge revealed when she pried the panel open. Pidge’s fingers fly over the keyboard, quickly tapping away to circumvent the security protocols standing between them and their entry to the lab.

Keith sweeps his eyes up and down the deserted hall. He has the rotating security patrols memorized, and tonight’s guard won’t circle back to check this hall again for another fifteen minutes. They’ve also taken care of the cameras on their way there, keeping their escape path clear as an extra precaution, just in case they have to leave in a hurry.

“We’re in,” Pidge says, unfolding from her crouch and shooting him a smirk. “Let’s make this quick.”

They slip into Lab 4 and Keith holds out an arm to stop Pidge from entering fully while he scans the room for any additional cameras. Once he’s satisfied that they’re camera-free, he drops his arm and she darts lightning-quick into the room. There are two long tables down the center of the lab, each with several computers and instruments. Keith sees a multitude of containment canisters holding soil samples and what appear to be plants.

 _Wow_ , he thinks for a second, leaning in for a closer look at a deep blue, feathery looking plant, _the Garrison has actually found planets that could be inhabitable._

Pidge is going to each station and systematically snapping photos and plugging her tablet into the desktops to download relevant information on each sample. While she waits for her data transfer, she examines the samples and adds her own notes to the one’s she is collecting.

Keith stands guard, keeping time until they need to leave.

Pidge gasps and Keith looks over to her.

“What is it?” he asks, tensing with worry.

“I…it’s a live specimen, I think,” Pidge says, her voice colored with wonder. “They actually brought back a live creature.”

Keith blinks and leaves his post by the door, walking over to stand beside her. They lean down together and peer into the clear sample container.

“What do you make of it?” Keith asks.

The thing inside moves around the container lethargically. Keith wonders if it’s supposed to do that, or if being on Earth is too harsh of a living environment for it. He wonders if it’s going to die soon from the way it slowly treks back and forth, appearing to pace in confinement. It almost looks like a cross between a rhino beetle and a plump worm.

“I don’t know. It looks weird, but it’s definitely not anything that’s been discovered from our planet’s ecosystem,” Pidge says, adjusting her glasses.

Keith shifts closer for a better look, picking up the sample container.

“Be careful, Keith. We don’t know anything about what it can do,” she says.

Keith hums absently, turning the clear canister back and forth. He’s mesmerized by the colors of the bug-like creature, the way the shell looks almost iridescent. The colors appear to shift as it moves around in its containment container, fading in and out from blue-green to deep purples flecked with gold. Keith can’t take his eyes off the alien bug at all, staring at it unblinkingly.

The creature makes another turn in its pacing and seems to notice Keith. It diverts from its path and creeps slowly over to stare back out at Keith, fixating its attention on him. Keith’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

Then, several things happen at once: the alien bug flings itself at Keith, its hard shell making a _thunk_ sound when it hits the barrier separating them, and Pidge’s handheld tablet beeps to signal the completion of a data transfer protocol. Keith jumps, both at the sound and in surprise at the bug’s sudden movement, interrupted from hypnotically staring at the specimen.

“Keith, careful!” Pidge says sharply, but the canister is already jolted from his grip and falling.

He fumbles to catch it in time, dropping to the floor; he’s not fast enough. It shatters when it hits the tiled floor and Keith flinches when his hand closes a second too late over a shard of broken glass.

“Ow! Shit,” he says harshly, ripping his hand back and examining the way blood wells in the shallow cut and then dribbles down his finger from where his fingertip is sliced open.

Pidge shoots forward, babbling. “Oh my god, Keith. Holy sh—what do we—we have to catch it or they’ll know—”

“ _Pidge_ ,” Keith says firmly, grimacing and shooting her a look. “Calm down. No panicking.”

“Right. Right, okay. Right,” she says, still speaking too quickly, her eyes wide behind her oversized frames.

Keith wipes his bloody finger on the pant leg of his black jeans, glad that he wasn’t required to wear his cadet uniform after the class blocks ended for the day. He wraps the hem of his t-shirt around his finger and pinches it tightly to help stem the blood flow. When he looks back at Pidge, ready to tell her they need to finish up and get the hell out of the lab, he catches the unnatural paleness of her face, as if all the color drained from it. Her eyes are locked on his shoulder.

“What is it?” Keith asks quietly.

“You—it’s—the bug thing is on you,” Pidge whispers, equally quiet.

Keith freezes and—very slowly, so that he doesn’t startle the alien bug into evading them—turns his head to catch a glimpse of the iridescent beetle-worm currently on his shoulder. Its got wings, Keith parses; they’re spread wide to look like a butterfly’s instead of normal beetle wings, and Keith absently thinks that they’re rather beautiful. They’re streaked with a vivid red and Keith guesses that it might be his leather jacket that attracted the bug to him.

“Okay,” Keith breathes, “you’re going to have to catch it. I’m afraid if I move, it will just fly off. If we can’t catch it, we could just leave and erase any trace of ever being—”

“ _Keith_ , we can’t do that,” Pidge says disapprovingly, her small face pinching into the same frustrated pout she gets when things aren’t going her way. “What if it’s dangerous? We can’t just leave it for the Garrison hacks to unleash onto the world.”

“Okay, one: it’s a single specimen; I sincerely doubt it’s going to cause that much trouble. Two: it is currently _on me_ , so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say ominous shit like that,” Keith says, tipping a pointed look in her direction. “Find an empty canister and catch it.”

Keith glances down at the beetle and nearly startles once more when he sees it’s fixated its attention on him again, waving its horn at him in the same way bugs with feelers tap around in front of their faces. Keith blinks and mouths ‘ _hurry_ ’ at Pidge.

Keith holds still while Pidge attempts to catch the beetle, but when she comes at the bug with the empty sample container, the alien beetle-worm scurries all over Keith’s arm—and then it latches its pincers onto Keith’s exposed neck.

Keith loses his cool composure and panics, batting the creature off with a reflexive motion and an undignified yelp that stemmed from a fight or flight response. Keith slaps his hand over his neck, his heart pounding rapidly with adrenaline.

“Did it just bite you?!” Pidge questions, her voice going high-pitched.

Keith shrugs helplessly, blinking. He doesn’t feel anything, not really—just a dull, throbbing warmth around the bite area.

“Gotcha!” Pidge says triumphantly, catching the alien creature while it’s stunned on the floor. She brings the container up to nose level and glares at it. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth. And I believe in all forms of _scientific advancement_.”

Keith snorts at the indignation on her voice. Pidge puts the live specimen sample back on the countertop and turns back to him.

“Are you okay?” she asks, concern back in her voice.

Keith shrugs again, unsure. “We should probably move before one of the lab techs finds us,” he suggests.

“You just got bit by an alien species that we know nothing about and you’re just going to act like this is a routine intelligence gathering night?” Pidge asks dubiously.

“We haven’t found anything new that relates to Kerberos, anyway,” Keith reasons. Pidge tilts her head consideringly and nods in agreement. Keith gets up from the floor, his boot crunching on the glass. “We need to clean this up before we go.”

“On it,” Pidge says. She checks a supply closet in the corner and returns with a hoover-bot to sweep up the mess. After punching the control button on top with her finger, she sets it down and they both stand by, watching it take care of the shattered mess. When it finishes, Pidge puts it away once more. “Okay, let’s go.”

Keith takes his hand away from his neck and prods at the spot above the collar of his t-shirt where the beetle’s pincers pinched him, frowning. It doesn’t feel any different from a mosquito bite, so he pushes it from his mind to focus on getting them safely out of the laboratory section of the military campus. He glances down at his finger and is satisfied to see that the bleeding is staunched for the time being. He makes a mental note to clean and wrap it later, when he’s back in his dorm room.

“Hold on,” Pidge says and makes a quick sweep of the room, plugging her tablet network cord into a device on a table in the corner. “I’m putting a protocol on these computers to cover any trace of my back door data transfers.” She pauses for a few seconds, typing. “Okay. Let’s go.”

They use their pre-determined route to move quickly through the different sectors. On their way back, they turn a corner and collide with two people who swung around at the same exact moment. All four of them stumble back, emitting _oofs_ and an annoyed _watch it_ and profuse apologies.

Keith shook his hair out of his eyes and scowled at the two people they ran into: a lanky guy with bronze skin and a tousled crop of brown hair wearing a green jacket, and a bulkier guy with darker skin and an orange bandana tied around his forehead. The bigger guy smiles at them apologetically, his smile friendly and worried, while the other one narrows his eyes at them as soon as he catches sight of Keith.

Everything seemed relatively fine, with no side effects up to that point. That shifts the second Keith meets the skinny guy’s blue eyes, recognition flaring. This was one of the guys from his Fighter Pilot class.

It hits him all at once, making his breath rush out of him as if he’s been punched. The bite on his neck throbs and Keith slaps a hand over it again. Keith’s eyes go wide while he stares, a multitude of feelings shooting through him, each one fighting for dominance.

Up to that point, he hasn’t really known who this boy is—other than an obnoxiously talkative loud mouth that’s been recently promoted from Cargo Pilot to Keith’s class. All Keith really knows about him is vaguely seeing him around from the same recruitment enlistment.

Keith sees Pidge shoot a look back and forth between him and the other two. “Uh, right so…we’re going to go, and you guys can keep going…wherever it is you’re sneaking off to after curfew.”

“You seem to be out after curfew,” the pilot-class-guy says, his tone smooth. Keith’s mouth goes dry and he feels very strange.

“I don’t see how that’s your business, Lance,” Pidge counters airily. “We’re heading back, anyway. Good luck not getting caught by Iverson.”

 _Lance_. Keith sucks in a sharp breath, feeling like his ears pop from a change in altitude pressure when he hears the name. _Lance, Lance, Lance,_ his mind chants.

The other three continue bickering back and forth, and Keith has another revelation that he’s seen Pidge with them before—they’re her newly assigned team. He tries to focus on the conversation, but he quickly loses the thread of it and squeezes the hand over his neck; his cut finger twinges when he grazes it over the bite. It feels hotter than it did before. _You’re dying_ , Keith thinks to himself. _Delayed reaction…it builds up and hits you all at once. Hope it’s not contagious._

A tingling heat runs all over Keith’s skin, making him shudder.

“Hey, you don’t look so good. Are you alright?” The big guy—Hunk, Keith lands on the name while his mind feels like it’s in a fog—asks, concerned.

And then, unsure why he feels compelled to do it, Keith launches himself at Lance.

*******

One second, Lance is calling Pidge out for his double standards on sneaking around after curfew, and the next thing he’s aware of, Keith is rushing up to him and _hugging_ him.

Lance splutters, shifting a step back to keep his balance from the force Keith hits him with when he practically jumps into Lance’s arms. There’s a flurry of dark hair brushing under his nose as Keith tucks his face into Lance’s chest, squeezing him.

The hug almost hurts with how strong Keith’s holding onto Lance.

“Um,” Lance says slowly, dragging out the syllables.

Keith is like an octopus, his arms winding around Lance’s neck and latching onto him when Lance attempts to squirm out of his hold, grunting.

“Uh, quick question— _what the fuck_?” Lance asks, shooting a helpless look at Hunk.

Hunk and Pidge are both staring at Lance and Keith, Pidge’s hand hanging in the air from whatever he’d been saying before, gesturing with his hands as he spoke.

All Lance can focus on—aside from, uh, _everything_ about Keith being all over him—is that wow, okay, Keith actually smells really nice and his hair feels soft brushing against Lance’s cheek. Keith peers up at him and Lance’s stomach swoops when their eyes meet—and, holy shit, are Keith’s eyes actually some kind of indigo? Lance thought they were just dark before, another part of Keith’s Cool and Mysterious Aesthetic™, but now he sees the complex color and gulps.

This was _not_ how he pictured his night of celebration going.

“That’s an interesting reaction,” Pidge mutters. He whips out a holoscreen tablet to make notes on, mumbling to himself; Lance sees him with it occasionally, like a semi-permanent fixture.

Hunk laughs nervously. “Are you okay, Keith?” he asks once more.

Keith hums contentedly and nods. Lance feels the cold tip of his nose brush against his skin and his breath hitches.

“Great. So glad you’re feeling peachy—so much so that you’re hugging me,” Lance says, hearing the heavy note of sarcasm creeping into his voice. He prods Keith in the side, taking a little too much satisfaction in the way it makes Keith twitch. “Could you maybe, like…stop…with the hugging? Not that I don’t love a good hug, but like...personal space, _pendejo_...”

Keith shakes his head and Lance huffs an annoyed sigh.

“A little help, Hunk?” Lance asks, gesturing at Keith.

Hunk steps forward and together they try to get Keith to separate from Lance, but he only holds on tighter, burying his face in the crook of Lance’s shoulder. Lance _swears_ he feels lips brush against his skin and he gapes at Hunk with wide eyes. He isn’t equipped to handle the fact that his _sworn rival_ is happily wrapped around him.

Pidge’s tablet beeps and he curses under his breath. “We have to move,” he says urgently. “There’s a security patrol in the vicinity.”

“Uh—okay, but I would just like to state, for the record, I did _not_ sign up for this,” Lance says stubbornly. If he didn’t have Keith tangled around him, he would even go so far as to cross his arms over his chest. “I just wanted to sneak out with my best friend for a fun night on the town.”

Pidge fixes him with a deadpan stare, which is rather effective considering how small he is, and says, “Well, your options are try to sneak out while Keith here practices his cephalopod impressions on your person, _or_ come with me so I can figure out what the hell made him act like this.”

Lance shares a silent look with Hunk, raising his eyebrows when Hunk pulls a face that implies he’s having a nervous breakdown at the prospect of being caught breaking the rules. Lance sighs again.

“Fine,” he mutters, squirming once more when Keith won’t get off him. “Dude, okay, look.” He worms a hand between their bodies and tries to push Keith away. “We’re going to get caught if you don’t stop hugging me. I can’t even move with you all over me like this.”

“But I want to hug you,” Keith says, his voice soft and his bottom lip protruding slightly in a pout that Lance refuses to find kind of cute.

Lance gusts out a ragged breath and glances around quickly when he hears footsteps echoing in an adjacent hall.

“We seriously need to move,” Pidge urges in a quiet undertone. He begins to skirt down the corridor in the direction of the dorms, not bothering to check if they were following.

“Okay, let’s make a deal,” Lance says to Keith when he looks back at him. “You let go so we can leave and I’ll…hold your hand until we get somewhere safe. Sound good?”

Keith squeezes him silently, but after a moment of pondering he nods and steps back. Lance’s side goes cold and he feels the loss of Keith’s body heat when he’s free from the hug. While Lance is having a mental crisis over whether or not he actually misses Keith’s warmth, Keith slips his hand into Lance’s and tangles their fingers together before a beat even passes.

And then they’re off, quickly sneaking back through the maze of halls. They catch up with Pidge and move like a team, checking around corners and taking input from Keith when he quietly murmurs the security protocol for the different sections as they pass through.

“Where should we go?” Hunk asks when they’re closer to the military college area.

“Let’s go to your room,” Pidge suggests. “Mine’s further away, and Keith’s is near it.”

They make their way there and pile inside when they reach Lance and Hunk’s dorm room, miraculously avoiding getting caught.

Lance lets go of Keith’s hand and plops onto his bed, legs sprawling out. He splutters indignantly when Keith climbs into his bed after him, sitting so close that their sides are plastered together. He rests his head on Lance’s shoulder without a word.

“So, to reiterate: _what the fuck_?” Lance barks, gesturing at Keith. “Who the hell is this and what has he done to the normal Keith.”

“That is Keith,” Pidge says, adjusting his glasses. He’s sitting at the desk on Hunk’s side of the room and pulling out his tablet once more.

“Yeah, no,” Lance insists, “Keith is a douchebag who hates me and would never be caught dead being this affectionate. This is like…zombie Keith, or something.”

Pidge snorts and gets absorbed in pulling up a slew of photos on his holoscreen.

“What’s that?” Hunk asks, hovering over Pidge’s shoulder. He hasn’t sat down since they got back, nervously pacing off his excess energy. Lance is just waiting for the moment he needs to duck and hurl into his wastebasket. “That thing looks weird.”

“It should; it’s not from Earth,” Pidge says wryly. “Okay, where do I even start to explain all of this?”

“Better start talking quick, little gremlin,” Lance grumbles when Keith slings an arm over his waist. His warmth is back and Lance doesn’t know whether he should be happy or if he should still be trying to push him away.

Pidge blows out a sigh and rubs his fingers under his round frames, over his eyes. “Okay,” he repeats slowly. “Settle in, Hunk. This is kind of going to be an info dump.”

Hunk sinks onto his bed and bounces his knee, propping his elbows on his thighs and resting his chin against his folded hands. Lance gets distracted by the way Keith’s soft breaths fan over his neck and jaw, hot puffs of air that come every few seconds. He seems so relaxed that Lance wouldn’t be surprised if he did something weird, like start purring.

“Keith and I have been…looking for answers. The Garrison has been acting really shady since the Kerberos mission investigation, and we both have a…vested interest in that incident,” Pidge starts, choosing his words carefully. He gestures at Keith. “He’s been helping me snoop into the samples the analytics labs have been receiving. The Garrison’s bringing them back from neighboring systems.”

“Whoa, what?” Hunk sits up straight and Lance’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, drawing his full attention away from Keith.

Everyone knew about the Kerberos mission; the pilot, Shiro, was a legend to Lance. He was like a hero to him, one Lance looked up to.

“Yeah,” Pidge agrees, continuing his explanation. “And they haven’t made such an amazing advancement in space exploration public knowledge yet. So anyway, for the last three or four months Keith and I have been systematically collecting intel from the Garrison by sneaking into the labs and trying to search for clues about Kerberos.”

Pidge taps the screen of his tablet and the pictures project in the space above it. Hunk makes an appreciative sound and leans closer to Pidge’s tech, poking a thick finger into the projection. Pidge huffs and pulls his screen out of Hunk’s range.

“Stop that. I built this myself and I don’t want you messing with it,” he says.

“Sorry.” Hunk smiles kindly and holds his hands up. His nervous energy melts away, for the time being, while he’s distracted by Pidge’s advanced tablet.

“Tonight in Lab 4, we discovered that the Garrison brought back a live sample,” Pidge says, pointing to the blue-hued beetle in the projection. Lance tilts his head, thinking it looks pretty, and whistles low. “When Keith picked up the container it was in, it sort of…fixated on him and when it moved, he dropped it. The alien bug broke out and when I tried to catch it…well, it bit him. Sort of.”

“Sort of? What do you mean ‘ _sort of_ ’?” Lance asks with a snort.

Keith shifts once more against Lance’s side. His nose isn’t as cold as it was before now that it’s tucked against the spot where Lance’s neck meets his shoulder.

Pidge makes a floundering gesture. “I don’t know, Lance, it had like—pincers, or whatever. I just found out about this alien creature tonight, forgive me for not being an expert on it.”

“Jeez, okay,” Lance says mildly.

“So, maybe it’s a good idea if we, like…tell our superior officers about what happened,” Hunk suggests, like it’s the obvious answer. He seems to be over his momentary distraction and is wringing his hands together in front of himself. “You know, because you don’t know what that bug thing was and what it might do to Keith. Or what it might do to us. Do you think it could do something to us? Through Keith? Oh, god, what if it’s taken over Keith as a host body?”

Hunk makes a panicked sound and bites down on his nails. Pidge raises an eyebrow and pulls up more data on his tablet.

“We don’t exactly know ‘ _nothing_ ’, per se. I did download the data logs for what the shuttle crew collecting the samples had to say about the bug.” Pidge turns the screen so Hunk can see it.

“This is still an alien encounter we’re discussing though, right?” Lance points out. “Like, for medical and scientific reasons, shouldn’t we tell them?”

“We can’t do that,” Pidge argues, bristling. He turns to Lance. “Because if the Garrison finds out about it, they’re going to expel and discharge Keith and I for being in restricted zones.”

Before Pidge can continue, Lance interrupts him. “Fine, okay— _fine_. We won’t tell them. But, in the meantime, we’re going to need some kind of plan or something, to keep this from them. Otherwise, everyone is going to notice the change in Keith’s demeanor and be suspicious. He doesn’t exactly…blend in.”

Pidge takes a moment to mull that over, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger while he thinks.

“That’s not a bad idea. What if,” Pidge hesitates and tilts his head while he pins Lance with a look that he can’t decipher. “What if you pretend Keith is your boyfriend?”

“Ohh, good one, Pidge,” Hunk says, holding his palm up for a high five that Pidge grants with a smirk.

“What?!” Lance blurts. “Oh, come on guys, what if this goes on for weeks— _months_ , even? I can’t do that. What would I do if I had to kiss Keith in public to make it believable? Look, I loved my drama classes in high school, but that’s just taking things too far.” Lance flaps his hand wildly as he protests. His other hand has somehow found its way to rest around Keith’s hip without his permission, but once he becomes aware of it he doesn’t want to snatch it away because it will be obvious. He continues ranting to distract Hunk and Pidge while he tries to move his arm discreetly. “We have no idea what that thing was that Keith was bit by, so we have no clue if this is a permanent change or not. I can’t, like…take advantage of him this way, when he’s all pliant and weirdly affectionate.” A thought occurs to Lance and he jolts with horror. “Guys—what if…what if he’s trapped in his brain right now, cringing at how he’s acting because it’s something he would never do?”

Pidge exchanges a look with Hunk. Lance is momentarily jealous that they seem to have silent communication nearly as good as his and Hunk’s before he shoves it aside.

“Are you some kind of homophobic asshole, or something? You seem _really_ hung up on Keith’s behavior right now.” Pidge crosses his arms tightly over his green and white sweater, fists balled tight.

Lance reels back as if he’s been slapped. “Are you kidding me? _No_ , not at all! I don’t give a shit, not really. I have no problem with touching guys, not that my preferences are any of your business. It’s just—it’s just that it’s _Keith_ and this morning he…he snubbed me when I failed the flight simulator…so it’s kind of hard to turn off the part of me that wants to deck him for that, or, like, reconcile those actions with the way he’s acting now.”

Lance feels hot all over at the admission and feels guilty when he takes a small comfort in the way Keith gently brushes a hand over Lance’s jaw. If they had a different history between them, maybe Lance could have wanted to be intimate with Keith like this.

Pidge relaxes once more, looking relieved.

“You’ll have to; at least until we can get a handle on this,” Pidge says, like their little training team has suddenly become a real team. Pidge narrows his eyes at Lance. “Otherwise, they’ll find out that we were _all_ out of bounds tonight and we’ll be written up—didn’t you _just_ make your promotion? I doubt they’ll look kindly on your penchant for bending the rules to sneak off the compound whenever you want.”

Lance inhales sharply. “That’s cold, Pidge,” he accuses. “I thought you were our teammate. We gotta stick together, man.”

Pidge groans. “Quit calling me ‘ _man_ ’, I’m not one of your bros,” he says flatly.

“Whatever, dude,” Lance shoots back, just to rile him up.

Pidge makes a frustrated grumbling sound and throws his hands up in the air, muttering under his breath. Lance takes a little too much satisfaction in seeing the tiny ball of rage Pidge turns into when he’s pissed off.

Keith moves, reminding Lance of his presence, and another issue occurs to him, prompting Lance to pose another question.

“What am I supposed to do about how we normally act around each other? People aren’t going to believe we just up and started dating—especially not when they see him acting like this,” Lance reasons, jostling Keith, and only succeeding in getting Keith to nuzzle—actually, honest-to-god _nuzzle_ —against Lance’s shoulder. Like he’s an oversized house cat.

Pidge rolls his eyes, but it’s Hunk who suggests: “Tell them it was a whole enemies-to-lovers situation. You just started making out one day instead of fighting, and you’re tired of hiding your secret love for each other.”

Lance blanches and gives Hunk a betrayed look, holding a hand over his heart theatrically. “Hunk, _buddy_ , this isn’t some cheesy romance novel that your sister reads. This is my _life_ —no one is going to believe that Keith and I just started making out and it miraculously solved all of our irreconcilable differences.”

Pidge’s face morphs into a smug expression and he cuts in. “Actually. It’s more likely than you think. It’s called ‘pent up unresolved sexual tension.’ And guys your age are rampant with it, what with your testosterone levels. It’s science.”

“ _What_?” Lance practically shouts it, darting a quick look at the closed door and hoping no one heard him. He gapes at Pidge, at a complete loss for words. “I can’t even with you right now. I don’t believe what I’m hearing.”

Lance slides his eyes to Keith, who is nestled comfortably beside him. His gloved hands are playing with the bottom of Lance’s shirt. Lance feels his face heat in embarrassment when Keith’s fingers sneak under, tickling his stomach. He sucks in a breath and tilts a shy look in Hunk and Pidge’s direction across the room. Lance clamps down on Keith’s hand and redirects it, sighing in relief when Keith takes the bait and threads their fingers together. His gloved palm is warm against Lance’s and it makes something twinge in Lance’s chest. He stares down at their hands and squints, realizing that Keith’s finger is bleeding.

“Dude, you’re hurt,” Lance says. “You have a cut on your finger.”

“Glass,” Keith agrees solemnly, looking at Lance through his lashes.

“Let me see,” Lance says, moving to sit up. He’s glad that Keith obliges and sits up without pinning him down; he even offers his hand to Lance when he holds his palm out expectantly. Lance tilts Keith’s hand back and forth while he examines the cut. “Doesn’t look too deep. Hunk, are there still band-aids in your desk?”

“Yeah, hang on—Pidge, can you—? Thanks, third drawer down,” Hunk says.

Pidge tosses a box at Lance and he catches it awkwardly, rummaging through it.

“Wait, here’s a disinfectant wipe, too,” Pidge says, still digging through Hunk’s drawer.

Lance wipes Keith’s cut clean and wraps his finger with a medicated band-aid. Keith watches him silently the whole time while he helps him out, smiling serenely in a way that Lance wants to find creepy, because it’s Keith and he’s practically a stranger this way from how Lance is used to interacting with him, but at the same time noticing how nice Keith’s smile is. Lance clears his throat and ducks his head to avoid Keith’s steady gaze, feeling his cheeks prickling with heat once more.

“Okay, I’d better get back to my dorm,” Pidge announces, hopping up from Hunk’s desk chair. “We can meet tomorrow to make a more solid plan. Lance, I want you and Hunk to remember anything about Keith’s behavior that could be a clue.”

Lance pulls a face. “Why? I know as much as you do. Isn’t he leaving with you?”

“I don’t want to,” Keith says stubbornly.

“You have to; this isn’t your dorm room,” Lance says evenly. Keith shakes his head.

“I’m not going,” he repeats. “Unless you’re going to come with me.”

“Uh, hard pass,” Lance says, disbelief coloring his voice.

“Fine, then I’m staying here with you,” Keith insists, and somehow this is the most Keith-like thing to have happened the entire night. Keith glances down at Lance’s bed, adding, “I like sleeping closer to the wall.”

Lance blinks slowly.

“¿ _Qué diablos hice para merecerme esto _?” he asks no one in particular in a frustrated tone. Hunk snickers; Lance taught him enough Spanish to catch the gist of what he was saying. He shoots Hunk a mild glare, then rubs a hand over his face. “You want to sleep in my bed?” Lance clarifies.__

__Keith shrugs and nods, like it’s no big deal._ _

__“I don’t mind if Keith stays,” Hunk pipes up, shrugging. He gets up and starts changing for bed._ _

__“Great, thanks,” Lance deadpans. “Ugh, okay, fine. We’re doing this, I guess,” he adds after deliberating uselessly, merely trying to delay the inevitable fallout of the weird alien bug bite. “Time for a slumber party with my greatest rival.”_ _

__Hunk makes a pained sound on his side of the room. “Stop being so melodramatic.”_ _

__“I’m pretending to date Keith now; I’m allowed to be dramatic about it,” Lance declares. Hunk swats a big hand at him and gets into bed._ _

__“Whatever; just make sure you turn the light off. It’s your turn,” Hunk says, yawning. Hunk shifts in his bed and turns away from them, pulling his covers up._ _

__Lance untangles himself from Keith’s squid hands and gets up, scratching at the back of his neck. As he’s pulling out a pair of boxers and a t-shirt it occurs to him that he’s going to have to share his clothes with Keith—it’s not like Keith has anything to sleep in. He purses his lips to one side and sees Keith curled around Lance’s pillow, his nose right up against it._ _

__“Here,” Lance offers, holding up an extra t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. “You can wear this to bed so you don’t have to sleep in your jeans.”_ _

__“Thanks,” Keith says._ _

__He gets up from the bed, gracefully unfolding himself, and Lance has to shake himself from noticing the way Keith moves. Keith might be shorter than him by a couple of inches, but his legs are…really long and…yeah. Lance clears his throat and pointedly turns around to give Keith some semblance of privacy while they change for bed._ _

__When he turns back around, Lance almost smiles. Keith’s mop of hair is disheveled from pulling the shirt over his head, making him look softer than his usual hard expression._ _

__Lance’s shirt is a little big on him, and he can see the bite on Keith’s neck. Before Lance is really aware of making the decision to do anything, his hand is lifting. He hesitates for a beat, hand hovering in the air, but gives into the urge and brushes his fingers over the red lump. Keith tilts his head to give Lance better access, looking at him through his long lashes and remaining silent._ _

__Lance swallows and clears his throat. “Time for bed,” he rasps._ _

__Lance switches off the light and the room dims considerably, only lit by the dim glow of Hunk’s electronics. Keith is already in bed when Lance climbs in. They both lay down and Lance pulls the covers up, suddenly really self-conscious about wearing thin boxers to bed, but it was too hot in the desert to be comfortable sleeping in pajama pants._ _

__It’s awkward, because Keith keeps trying to shift closer, making miniscule advances and soft noises that are driving Lance crazy—until Lance finally rolls over and makes Keith face the wall. When he’s got Keith settled, Lance slings his arm stiffly over Keith’s waist. Keith accepts this position change and finally falls asleep, holding onto Lance’s hand and cradling it over his heart._ _

__Lance lays awake for a long time after that, listening to the raspy wheezing of Keith’s deep breaths and Hunk’s hearty snores._ _

__At some point—he’s not sure how much later—he finally manages to drop off into a fitful sleep. The last thing’s he’s conscious of is a stark awareness of the thin material that separates his body from Keith’s between his boxers and the basketball shorts he gave Keith—that, and how fucking _warm_ Keith is._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments + Kudos are ♥ | Come screech at me and say hi on Tumblr [@starboysinspace](http://starboysinspace.tumblr.com)!
> 
>  **Translations** :  
>  _Lo cantaré en español_ \- I will sing it in Spanish.  
>  _pendejo_ \- asshole  
>  _¿Qué diablos hice para merecerme esto?_ \- What the hell did I do to deserve this?

**Author's Note:**

> Comments + Kudos are ♥ | Come screech at me and say hi on Tumblr [@starboysinspace](http://starboysinspace.tumblr.com)!


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